Constellations
by Nietzsche's Itch
Summary: Star Wars oneshots.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

This is how it feels to be Jobal Naberrie, right now.

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><p>She is watching from a distance, unseen and unheeded by those she observes. Her daughter and her Jedi bodyguard are taking a walk through the meadow that has been Padmé favoured place of refuge since she was a girl. Chiming laughter reaches her ears, though words are lost, and deeper, masculine laughter soon follows. They walk side by side, but for when Anakin veers off to pluck a flower quickly from the millions that grow vivid and tall in this undisturbed sanctuary.<p>

It is a common flower of Naboo, but Padmé accepts it graciously, as if it was an undiscovered species. Perhaps she sees it with new eyes, because of who had gifted it to her. They resume walking, and Padmé idly winds the blossom into her hair. She cannot see Anakin's face, nor hear what he says to her, but her daughter seems to light up from the inside, outshining the afternoon sun. Their hands almost touch, as they move along, and she considers that if not for her presence, which Padmé may be unaware of but the Jedi who accompanies may merely be politely disregarding, he might close that gap, and cross that line which divides them.

Jobal is torn, she wishes for her daughters happiness, but this way lies heartache. It will not last, it can not last. For he is Anakin Skywalker, and destined for great things. Padmé had waxed long on his boyish enthusiasm, his unselfish desire to help complete strangers with no benefit to himself, her certainty that he would find a way to make his dreams come true.

Her own desire to see him again, she had not expressed, but she knew her daughter.

Ten years had passed, and Padmé had delved deeper into politics. Being an aunt to her sister's children seemed to be enough for her, and Jobal was forced to accept that her need to better the lives of others eclipsed her personal desires. Then she came back to Naboo, full of righteous anger and with a man who could not take his eyes off her. Before his occupation came up, she had harboured high hopes that Padmé was finally giving herself a chance to live a life of her own, outside the political manoeuvrings of the galaxy.

She had recognized his name, of course she had, and had noted his charming smile, his solicitousness towards Padmé and his, truth be told, inappropriately evident ardour for their former queen. Still, she had welcomed him into her home, and grown to love him also. It only made her mourn his choice of calling privately, when she was alone with her thoughts.

As Padmé had done in her way, Anakin was bound to do in his, to use his gifts to help people. He might leave the Jedi for her, but he would never be content. The quiet life of a Nubian citizen would soon come to wear on him, and as Padmé continued in her role in the senate and in politics, he would come to resent how much he had given up for her. And Padmé would not allow him to, knowing all this, and seeing into the future as he only saw the promise of tomorrow.

It would not last, and she hoped for their sakes that they would not start what could only end tragically.

This is how it feels to be Jobal Naberrie, right now.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Wars

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><p>This is how it feels to be Owen Lars, right now.<p>

It is a beautiful Tatooine night, and the woman silhouetted against the backdrop of moonlit dunes and starry sky is entrancing. Clad in the simple clothes of a desert dweller, she nonetheless looks to be the loveliest creature that this arid planet has ever produced. At times like these, Owen does not find his fathers claim to love at first sight so easy to renounce.

He feels fortunate to be her son, or her son in all ways but for not having carried him herself. She is a loving woman, kind beyond measure, patient and enduring and never appears less than content with her life, a harsh and cruel existence though it may be. Shmi would not allow any less, for her duty is to her family, and to see them achieve their own small measure of happiness is her truest hope.

Sometimes, however, she will escape the confines of their small farm, leave Cliegg, Beru and himself to their good-natured bickering and leave the hovel. He ensures his father and his love are suitably mired in their playful dispute of the moment so as not to notice his absence when he slips, unseen after her.

He finds her at the edge of the land, where beyond roam Tuskens and the perils of thirst and the blazing heat of two suns makes their small moisture farm an oasis in a desolate land. She stares towards the moon, hair blowing freely in the wind. Shmi had explained to him once, while she never knew whether she looked toward Coruscant, she hoped that her son might be gazing at the moon there. It was not the same moon, but she felt closer to him for a brief time here.

Owen engages her in conversation, and she talks of _Anakin_. He has conflicted feelings about the slave turned Jedi apprentice that he has heard tell of since Shmi sat him down and explained that she would try and be as good a mother to him as she had tried to be with her firstborn. He is contemptuous of the ease at which he appeared to leave her. As a slave he had few comforts, and Owens own eyes tell him that the slaves he sees in Mos Espa cannot, for the most part claim to have a parent who would be content to remain a slave while they left to pursue their dreams.

And he is grateful, although guilty for being glad that she was not freed also. Anakin would have no end of caregivers in his new home, and Owen only needed one mother. They were a family again, and he did not know how they had come to be so lucky. Father, Shmi and Beru were all he wanted, or needed.

Last, he is angry, though is careful never to show it. He understands Shmi's need to remember her son, but Owen is here and Anakin is not. Anakin is going to be a hero to the whole galaxy, but he will not be here when his mother needs him. It will be him that teases and tries to make her smile, it will be him that hurries through his chores a little faster in order to help her prepare the evening meal. It will _not_ be him that she sees first when she looks at him, that first fleeting glance before she sees Owen, and not Anakin.

He isn't here. And Owen just might resent being second best enough to hope he never comes back. He is a better son than Anakin ever was, or is.

This is how it feels to be Owen Lars, right now.


End file.
